So You Think You Can Prompt?
by AllTooSure
Summary: Leave a review featuring a prompt, get a story. Do you have a story you've always wanted to read? Something that might not be the fluff offered by a lot of prompt based stories? Prompt it here, what's the worst that can happen? I specialize in fics focusing on the Charming Family and Swan Believer but am open to trying out other characters as well.
1. Lilies in the bookstore

**Prompt One: Something real that isn't featured in a lot of fics.**

It's unmistakable, the familiar shiver of recognition that tingled at the back of Emma's head. One moment she was shifting her eyes around the book store, surveying the people around her in an attempt to pass the time until Henry finally picked the book he wanted to read. Her eyes had been drawn to the brunette at the counter who was shifting around in her bag, swearing up and down to the hipster man behind the counter that her card couldn't be declined "because she had just paid it off yesterday".

Emma was no stranger to the situation herself. There was a time not too long ago when the idea of dropping $15 or so dollars on a new book was akin to buying Mercedes for most other people. She knew it was rude to stare so she grabbed a book, any book, off the closest shelf and pretending to be reading it while stealing glances at the woman at the counter and debating whether it would be more or less embarrassing for other woman if she over there and offered to settle the bill. Emma knew pride and understood that in times like that the line between a person's kindness and their pity was incredibly fine and nothing was worse than pity.

When the woman flicked her head around the store, for a reason Emma did not know, and the two women's eyes met each other a sense of recognition hit Emma in the face like a brick wall.

Lily.

Shit. She turned back to the book shelf. Okay, maybe Lily hadn't recognized her. It had been over a decade since they last saw each other after all. Right before Henry was born back when Neal was still in her life and Emma was still on the wrong side of the law.

Emma looked around for Henry, thinking maybe she could grab him and dart out of the store before Lily remembered who she was. She spotted the boy looking engrossed in the classics section on the other side of the store. Dammit.

Maybe if she cut through the back aisles and made a left at the counter then she could –

"Emma? Emma Swan? Is that you?" A familiar voice called out. Emma froze in her footsteps, cringing for a moment. Of course Lily noticed her. It was stupid to think she wouldn't. Emma plastered a smile on her face and turned in her heels.

"Hey. Lily? I..I didn't to expect to see you here in New York." Emma said through a half-hearted smile.

"Yeah, well. It's a small world." Lily said, her eyes raking over Emma's person."Well, look at you, Emma Swan. All shiny and decked out in red leather. Never thought I'd see the day. And looks like you've ditched the glasses."

Emma refused to flinch at Lily's judging eyes. She plastered a dead eyed stare and small smile on toher face and looked for a way out of this conversation.

"You know how it is, Lily. Things change."

"But people don't. No matter how much they may want to."

The two women stared at each other. Each daring the other to back down or bite or do anything to break this standoff.

In the end, neither of them had to. Henry approached his mom, with several backs piled up in his hands.

"Hey, mom. I found the book I need. Oh, and a couple of others and I know what you're going to say but… mom?" Henry stopped talking, only now noticing that his mother was trapped in a death stare with a brunette in-front of her. Henry looked at Lily with a frown. "Mom, who is this?"

Emma smiled at Henry tightly. "No one, kid. How about you get started ringing those books up, I'll be with you in a sec."

Henry looked between Emma and Lily skeptically, his feet staying planted on the ground.

"No one, huh? That's who I am to you?" Lily said in a low voice, laced with a sardonic tone. For a moment she looked hurt. She bit her bottom lip for a second before a cruel smirk spread across her face. "So this is your kid? Never thought I'd see the day you were driving a soccer van and going to PTA meetings." Lily turned to Henry.

"You know, _kid_ , the last time I saw your mom, I was dropping her off out front of this old, semi-legal abortion clinic in the middle of nowhere, promising to pick her up in an hour. Do you remember that, Ems?" She said, shooting her eyes over to Emma before returning to Henry.

"After that, your mommy ran off with my boyfriend. How old are you, kid?"

"fourteen."

Lily nodded her head and looked at Emma.

"Yep, that would be about right."

Emma clasped a hand on Henry's shoulder. "Henry. Go." She ordered. With a light push on his back Henry shuffled towards the register. The frown on his face evidence that Lily's words were having the desired effect on him.

Emma grasped tightly onto Lily's bicep. She yanked the woman closer to her.

"Stay away from me and stay away from my son." She whispered into the woman's ear.

Lily indicated her head over to the line at the front of the store, where Henry is noticeably absent.

"Looks like I am not the one he is trying to get away from."

Emma pushes Lily's arm back to her roughly, and as Lily rubs away the finger marks she left behind, Emma runs out of the store and looks up and down the street.

"Henry?" she yells

TBC.


	2. Mal & Emma

**Prompt: I would love a prompt where Maleficent helps Emma rescue Henry from Cruella not wanting her to lose her child like she lost Lily.**

She heard it as whispers first, swirling around the diner like small gusts of wind on a crisp autumn's day. Of course, nobody spoke to her directly. Why would they?

She was a villain. A dragon. A monster. Someone to be defeated and sneered at. Someone whose death would be cheered.

They weren't wrong, at least not entirely so. She had done terrible things and only on her most pitiful of nights could she bring herself to feel actual regret. But that wasn't all of who she was. She was also a mother. She had felt the joys of bearing new life and the experience had changed her forever and no matter how much she wished to go back to who she once was, she couldn't.

She should have been cheering at the idea of Snow White and her Prince Charming feeling a slice of her own pain. Their grandson missing, maybe dead (Cruella couldn't kill, but she could do other things). It was exactly what they deserved for what they did to Lily. But every time she felt even the hint of satisfaction creeping itself into her mind, she was flooded with thoughts of the savior. Of Emma Swan.

Emma Swan was once a friend of her daughters and if Lily was still out there, somewhere, they would be about the same age. Not only was Emma reflection of who her daughter could be (a powerful, young woman with magic pulsing through her veins), she was a reminder of the thing that united all mother's, the love for their children.

She made herself the promise then that she would help Emma find her son. The heroes would take the ground, the only field their pathetic legs could cover, but the sky offered a much better view and with her serpent like gaze nothing would escape her notice.

She transformed in secret, on the edge of the woods where it was unlikely to scare the people of Storybrooke. Gosh, it had been so long since she was free to stretch her wings to their fullest capacity. If she were ever asked to define freedom (and nobody knew freedom better than a woman who had been imprisoned for 28 years) she would describe the feeling of the fresh air pulsating against her scales as she prepared for her descent.

And the view, oh the view. From here in the sky, she could see the people of Storybrooke scurrying around like mice. She watched Granny serve Gepetto his food, with an extra prance in her walk, and looked away as August, noticing the flirting, chocked a little on his water. Eventually her eyes fell on Ashley, standing outside of Granny's and cooing over her little spawn. The sight immediately brought her back to her task and she drew her eyes away from the small town and into the forest, near Rumple's cabin where she was almost positive that Cru would have taken Henry.

She saw that the heroes had a similar train of thought as Emma, Regina and the Pirate approached the forests edge. Good, she wouldn't have to do this alone. She scanned for other figures and noticed Rumple lurking about. But where was the boy?

She circled the forest twice before she saw him, darting through the trees being rapidly descended on not by Cruella but by some four legged beast. The boy was quick, but speed would do him no good as he was rapidly approaching the edge of a cliff. Cruella was trailing quickly behind him and soon the boy would have no way out of this mess except down. Worst of all the heroes appeared to have separated and none of them were going in the right direct to find the boy before he meet a gruesome end.

She had to get Emma's attention. She needed to if she didn't want the woman to feel her pain of a lost child.

Emma's blonde hair stood out against the green of the forest. Mal swept in to she was hovering just above the blonde and released a loud screech. The savior jumped in fright and extended her hands as if to magic attack an imaginary foe. Mal rolled her eyes as Emma looked around for the source of the noise. She let out another screech and finally Emma looked up into the sky and, shielding her eyes from the setting sun, finally spotted the dragon.

Mal made a show of turning around, hoping that the savior had the good sense to follow her before time ran out. Mal relied on pure blind hope, to trust that savior was following behind her.

It was only when they were a few hundred meters from the cliff side, where the boy stood, arms shaking and stretched out to calm a ferocious Dalmatian, that Mal got the assurance she needed that her assistance had been take. The blonde hero sprinted across rock terrain and fallen trees, over taking even the massive dragon's form to reach her son. Mal could imagine how the blondes lungs must have burned with every breath she took, how her feet would ache as they were poked by sharp stones and how the air would sting as it cut into the scratches on her cheeks caused by wayward branches. Still the savior would not stop even for a second, not with what was at stake. If one thing was to define motherhood, Mal believed, it would be the image on the exhausted blonde, chest heaving up and down desperate for air, as she stretched her hands out towards her child offering the safety promised by a mother's embrace.

"Thanks,. You didn't have to help me but you did and you might just have saved Henry's life." Emma said to Mal once the people had cleared, leaving only the two of them.

Mal smirked. "I didn't do it for you, 'savior'. I don't know if you heard this but you weren't the only person screwed over by Cruella. This was purely about revenge."

Emma looked at Mal skeptically and shook her head.

"Sure it was.." She said, the disbelief clear in her voice. The savior turned to walk away but paused only a few steps away from the dragon queen. She turned her head and gave the fellow mother a smile. "I will find Lily, Mal. No matter what happens." She looked at the woman for just a second longer before continuing to walk away.

Mal smiled to herself. Despite the worlds of difference that separated the two women, Mal could feel the sincerity in the savior's words. For the first time in 30 years she had faith that she would see her daughter again.


	3. Finite

**Prompt: Emma contacts the spirits of previous saviors.**

Emma regretted moving out of her family's loft. Sometimes, when she would go over to her parent's for Sunday breakfast and be accosted by the smell of her father's pancake recipe wafting off the stove, she'd miss living in the loft, even if it had meant cramped spaces, a shower schedule and even sharing a bedroom with her quickly-becoming-a-teenager son. It was intimate and intimacy, especially the platonic, familial, 'Brady Bunch' kind, wasn't something Emma had experienced enough of before coming to Storybrooke.

Right now wasn't one of those times. Not when she was putting the last of the blood red candles in a perfect circle and flipping through an ancient spell book with pages that felt less like paper and more like animal hide (at least she hopped it was animal).

As much as her parents tried to be encouraging, she knew they were never exactly happy about her practicing magic. They couldn't help but stare at her wide eyed, with a mixture of wonder, pride and just the smallest twinge of fear in their gaze, whenever she did it. Like she was some side show freak at a circus. On one hand she understood, magic was freaky and it often came with this weird cult vibe that made it hard to look away, but still, the whole thing was awkward enough for Emma without any outside force making it worse. And anyway, she didn't have to worry about staining her mom's Anthropologie rug, if she did this whole thing outside.

"Okay, got the candles, got the big scary book," Emma whispered to herself as she read over the ingredient list again. "Now I just need the ugh…goat's blood."

Emma grimaced and held the goblet of goat's blood far from her body. She wasn't a stranger to seeing blood, but it was so much easier to deal with when it was coming from some guy who deserved to be bleeding rather than served like wine in a fancy cup.

As soon as the blood hit the ground, the earth began to shake. Emma reached her hands out to steady herself, blindly grasping for the branches of a nearby tree. She caught it and once she was sure she was not about to fall, she was able to pull her head up from the ground and look upon the scene she had caused.

Standing, or more like floating, in the center of her backyard, right where she had just poured the blood of a butchered animal, were two women and man. All three of them were wearing clothes from the Enchanted Forest.

And all of them were young. Very young.

"Um are you.. were you.. saviors?" Emma asked, not moving from her position by the tree.

The eldest of the group, a woman Emma's generously guessed to be around her age, smiled and nodded.

"Yes, and I can sense you are too. How blessed we all are to have such a grand purpose in life." She said, extending her arms out to Emma as if to hug her. Emma tightened her death grip on the tree, worrying that the woman was about to lung at her and drag her down to hell, fulfilling her destiny to die, right this second.

"Yeah, it's great. I'm a part of the superhero 27 Club." Emma muttered to herself, before turning to the three saviors in her garden. "Can I ask how you..you know?" She rolled her eyes to the back of her head for a dead affect.

The boy, boastful and proud, raised his chin before beginning to talk.

"I died slaying a terrifying spirit dragon who was threatening my land –"

"And I sacrificed my life to an ancient water goddess so that we would not be ravaged by floods" Said the younger girl, interrupting the boy. She looked to be about 14. Not much older than Henry. Emma's stomach seized up at the thought.

"We all have resplendent deaths, and lives, but you my child, have the greatest of all. You can defeat the Bringer of the Darkness once and for all. You can save the realms. You can finally bring back the happy endings."

"And all it will cost me is my life. Great. Look, is there another way? Can I defeat this 'Bringer of Darkness' without having to die?"

The oldest spectra, smiled sweetly at Emma but it was a look devoid of joy or even sympathy. It was hard and cold and reminded Emma of the matron's at the group homes she had passed through as a child. It was a look full of scorn, weighing up your worth, and judging whether you were even worthy of an answer.

"You will fight, Emma. And you will die. Consider it an honor that your death will not happen in the shrouds of obscurity like those of everyone you know. We saviors truly are the blessed." She said, in a voice barley above a whisper.

Emma stood there, fighting off the temptation to fight the lady but, just like before, the ground began to shake and grumble and this time Emma did not reach for the tree. She let gravity take her to the grass like a rag doll and stayed sitting on the ground where she had fell until night descended and a warm hand perched itself on her shoulder. For a moment, Emma imagined it was death or the hooded figure, same same, and wondered if the future had fallen on her faster then she had imagined.

"Emma, sweetie, what are you doing here on the ground?" A voice, kinder than any other called out. It was Mary Margaret. Mom. Emma had forgotten she was coming over.

"Just thinking about life. How great these last few years have been."

Snow straightened her skirt and took a seat next to Emma on the cool ground.

"They've been amazing. And we only have more to come."

A silence fell between the pair, as Emma imagined all of the things she was going to miss out on. She was never going to see Henry learn to drive or graduate or even come home drunk. She wouldn't see Neal's first steps, or know if Granny ever got around to changing the specials. Things that had seemed infinite just hours before now seemed very limited. How many more Sunday breakfasts at the loft did she have left? How many more days at the station? Or ride arounds with her father?

Snow reached her arm around Emma and lent her head on her daughter's shoulder. Drawing Emma out of her thoughts, the blonde turned to her mother. Her eyes were like pools of water but, by what Snow concluded must be sheer force of will, her cheeks were dry.

"Mom," Emma began, her voice strained. "I know it's selfish but..I..I don't want to die."

 _Thanks for the prompts, guys._


	4. Three Nineteen

**Prompt from Skatergirl94: Would you also consider doing canon scenes? There's so many less fluff, real angst scenes in the show that I'd love to see put down into words!**

 **One being when Emma yells at Henry in Season 3 Ep 19. Maybe what was going through her head? :)**

"Hey kid. I got to run. I got to check on a lead. You're okay to stay here longer? I'll call you later." She rambles off as quickly as possible. Maybe if she says these words fast enough he won't notice that she isn't telling the truth, that she broke the promise they lived by for years in New York, the promise that got them through all the challenges a single mom and her kid can face. The promise to never lie.

She kisses his head and notices how tense his body is. He knows. She knows he knows. She just hopes he still trusts her enough to believe that she is only lying to him for the right reasons. To protect him.

Ugh, lying to Henry sucks, she thinks as she rushes out of the dinner. She doesn't understand how other parents can do it so often. She hadn't lied to the kid in years. In New York she had shared her past with him, even the ugly parts. Everything about his dad and prison and all the things that lead up to that. She bared her soul and he accepted it and in the end they were both stronger for it. But now back in this town with all its magic, and family, and ugly little secrets, things were already falling apart. That's exactly why she couldn't stay in Storybrooke. It wasn't good for Henry, it wasn't good for either of them.

She didn't realize Henry had followed her until she was out of Granny's and his voice, cracking with age, calls out to her. She turns around, her mother, father and Regina looking on with fear in their eyes, while Henry stands on the stairs ready for a fight. Dammit.

"I told you. I'm following a lead." She scrambles, trying to put an end to this as soon as possible.

"What lead?"

Dammit. All these questions she can't answer and all she has are lame excuses and more stupid lies.

"It's my job. It's complicated."

"Is this about the person who killed my dad?" He asks and she knows it must feel foreign to him, going from no dad to a dead one.

She can feel her face scrunching up in confusion. What can she say? _'Yes, kid. Your father, who you did actually get to meet, was murdered by the Wicked Witch of the West but mommy's got the special magic that can stop her so don't worry just don't go outside for a while cause I don't want one of flying monkey's to gut you.'_ Why does this have to be so complicated? She knows that making it about his dad will only make Henry more interested, but maybe it will also get him to go back inside and let her get this done.

"Y..Yes."

"Then, tell me."

She's growing more frustrated. She doesn't have time for this. She has to go look for the book and get his memories back and..and give up everything they've had for the past year because life is just not that kind to her and this town, this stupid town, has made it its mission to take everything from her. Her past with her parents, her present with her son and who knows what else in the future.

"It-It would just be easier once it's all solved, Henry."

She knows it's not the answer he wanted to hear and from the way he looks at her it doesn't look like it's an answer he is going to accept easily either.

"You've been lying to me ever since we got here. I deserve to know everything." He says, punctuating every few words by angrily pointing at the ground.

Why can't he realize that she has to do this? That she wouldn't be choosing to lie to him if it weren't her only choice? She already feels like shit for lying to him and then he has to make it worse by acting like she's the jerk who is hiding the truth from him just for the hell of it.. And now she can feel Regina and her parents judging her and – and it's all just too much.

"No, you don't! I'm your mother and I know best. So, you just gonna have to deal with this for now, okay? Understood?" She says angrier then she expected she'd be.

From the corner of her eye she sees Regina practically gasp, as if Emma didn't remember all the much worse crap she saw the mayor say to their kid during the first curse, and she resists the urge to roll her eyes. Henry looks at her like she kicked a puppy and a part of her feels like she has. She just – she just wants to get away from the entire scene and find this stupid book so can get the hell out of Storybrooke.

"Yeah, I think I do." Henry says, and thinking that this fight is finally over, she turns away from him, still reeling in her own bitterness.

Her internally monologue is cut short when he calls out to her again.

"Wait. I need your keys. I left mine in the room and if I'm gonna be a prisoner I'd like to have my Game Boy."

She ignores the sarcasm because she already feels terrible for losing her cool at him and she doesn't want to make thing worse than they already are so she tosses him the keys before walking off. Her parents trail behind, still shocked. She can't wait to find this book because the sooner she find the book, the sooner she can defeat Zelena and the sooner she can get back to New York. Once she's back in New York she'll make it up to Henry. She knows she will.


	5. Hands Of My Father

**Prompt: I would love a prompt Neal finds out what Rumple did to Milah then goes to confront him about it. Rumple tries to blame Hook. Neal's angry-ish, Rumple uses magic to stop Neal from leaving the shop. Rumple tells Neal the whole truth including why he did it, it's because of him. Neal forgives. They hug, Rumple cups his cheek.**

He cradles the cup in his hand, the fine china, crisp and bright in a distinct contrast to the rough, leathery skin of his aging hands. He does not consider himself a proud man, not by any means, and definitely not vain. Vanity was a sin in which he prayed on in weaker people. You'd be surprised how many people would trade their vitality, their family, for a full head of hair or clear skin or a flat belly. Pathetic. Just like his father and his desperate, eternal clinging to youth long lost.

Vanity was the most foolish of sins and Rumplestiltskin would not let himself fall victim to it under any circumstances, but he must admit, he did admire his own hands. Strong and calloused in all the right ways, they were the hands of spinner, a provider, a father.

They had cradled his newborn son's head with strength and confidence, even as the rest of his body was overcome with shaking. Even when his leg buckled under the weight of his body. And they never failed to deliver as he spent evening's awake feeding thread after thread into the spinning wheel, the skin on the tips of his fingers having grown too thick over the years to still be punctured by the glistening needle.

Along with his eyes and his mind, Bae had inherited similar hands and Rumple appreciated that he could pass something of worth along to his son, besides from the legacy of child abandonment and cowardice that haunted him.

Still, he did not appreciate such hands when they were swaying angrily in the air demanding answers from him about a woman who had died centuries ago.

"Bae, son, what has brought this on? Things in Storybrooke have been going so well, why dredge up an ugly past?" He asks, placing the cup on the counter. His accent always forces itself out with twice the strength when he is with his son, and he hears himself sounding just like he did 300 years ago.

"It's Neal! And I don't care about the present right now. I want to know about the past! Did you kill Mama?" Neal fumes, and while his own voice may sound as it did in that old spinner hut, Neal's has changed so much. It's no longer high and cracking with puberty. It now bellows with bass. It's the voice not of a boy, whose concerns his father could take away with a treat and a story, but of a grown man demanding answers.

"Ba-Neal, I-I've told you this tale already. Your mother was killed by pirates. That Hook – the same one who parades himself around town with your girlfriend – He took her away and when she was no use to him, he..he killed her."

Neal looks at his father with a frown. His large brown eyes, crumpling with confusion.

"Emma's not my-" He starts before shrugging it off as unimportant. Now is not the time to be distracted. "You're lying papa. Hook told me the truth. He told me that you killed her."

"And you believe that pirate over your own father?"

"It's not him I believe in. I wouldn't need him to say it. I can see that you're lying. You have the same tell you did when I was 14, that little crinkle right below your left eye." He points to the same place on his own face. "I would know it anywhere. It's the same one you had when I told you about the bean the blue fairy gave me."

The shop falls silent, and normally Rumple would embrace the quiet. It's how he usually liked his store. Peaceful. But now the silence rings in his ears and takes away his breath until he can feel himself suffocating.

Neal shrugs, sensing that has father is not going to tell him the truth. He heads toward the shop door.

"I'm not going to be home tonight or maybe for a while. Don't try to contact me."

Rumple can sense that he is losing his son all over again. The air around him gets even thinner and harder to keep in. He reaches a hand out for Bae.

"Son, wait." He doesn't expect Bae to pause but he does. "I will tell you the truth, just please don't leave again. I can't- I can't lose you again, Bae."

Neal nods and watches as his father reaches to the shelf behind him. The older man moves some canisters around until he pulls out a glass bottle full of scotch and two shot glasses. He pour one for himself and knocks it back. Then he pours another two and passes one to his son.

"That day on the docks, when you're mother left, she didn't die. She ran away to be with..him. I didn't not know that though. I thought she had been captured, taken prisoner, and I was- I was too weak to fight for her." He says, his voice quivering with tears. It's like he is right back there, telling his wee son how his mama would not be coming home now or ever.

"I didn't see her again for 6 years. I was the Dark One by then and worse of all I-I had already lost you, Bae. I was searching everywhere and I found a man who claimed to have a magic bean. If I could just get my hands on it you and I could be united. That's when I heard about the pirates who had docked in town and I knew it was him. I was strong now. I could get my revenge, not for me, but for her. I challenged the captain to a duel but just as I was about to do him in, who should appear but your mother. She hadn't been taken at all Bae. She had run away. From me, from us."

Neal takes a sip of his drink and brings his hand up to massage his forehead.

"That's not an excuse to kill her." He mumbles.

"I know that now, Bae but at the time…We meet the next day to make an exchange but right before our deal was struck, I ask – I ask how-how she could leave you..knowing what it would be like without her. And as she fumbled for an excuse do you know what I saw in her eyes, Bae? Vindication. Not on ounce of regret."

Rumple moves over to the spot where Bae stands. His son's head is down and his face distorted to a frown, but he can see the beginning of tears welling in his boy's eyes.

He sighs before continuing.

"While I was looking for you, as desperate as a madman, it killed me to think that she just walked away."

Neal turns his head up, nodding it lightly and curling his lips into his teeth.

"I am sorry, son. If I could go back I'd make a different choice. Not for her." He says with a sneer, "but for you. So you could see her for yourself."

He clasps an arm around Neal, a gesture the younger man returns.

"It's alright, papa."

Rumple cups his son's cheek, just as he had done when the man was a baby and smiles and bittersweet smile. He looks again at his hands, thinking of all the destruction and pain and death they have caused and grimaces. When his son cups his own hand over his father's though he is given one more reason to love his hands, as he sees how perfectly that fit into his sons.

* * *

Sorry this one took so long, guys. I am pretty happy with how this turned out but because I am not that familiar with writing Rumple and Neal, it took a while to get into the right headspace. It was fun though, writing characters I haven't written before.


	6. Amazon

**A friend on tumblr prompted something to commemmerate the release of Wonder Woman in theatres.**

He stood at the door, clutching one of his comic books in small, clenched fists. The force of his grip caused the cover to wrinkle and crease, something that would normally distress the boy. At this time though, he hardly noticed.

He can't remember where he read it, but he does remembers reading once that you never know when everything is about to change until it suddenly does. This wasn't like that. He knew that once he knocked on that door he could never go back. It didn't matter what her reaction was. If she welcomed him with open arms and a warm smile, then he for the first time in his life he would have a mom. If she told him to get lost then, well, then his dream was dead and he'd be back on the train to Storybrooke and in Sister Blue's office before the sun rose and even though everything would look like it had yesterday, it wouldn't be the same because he'd be different. He'd be crushed.

He wondered what she'd look like. The mothers on TV always wore pretty sundresses and lipstick and loved baking. Sister Blue said TV was evil though, a distraction sent to make man idle and loosen his "moral fiber" or something like that. She said that about everything. She even hated comics cause' she said that they promoted false idols, whatever that meant. She only let him read them because Sister Belle kicked up such a fuss about the importance of being able to read.

The boy took a deep breath and raised his fist to the door. He knocked, slowly, letting the sound reverberate down the hall. When the echo died down, he raised his fist to knock again, when the door opened.

A young woman, with long dead straight blonde hair and a sleek black dress opened the door.

"Hey, kid. Where are your parents?" She asked looking down the hall, as if waiting for them to pop up out of nowhere.

Henry ignored her question, and instead took the chance to take in everything about the woman who stood before him. She was very pretty. Even prettier than the moms on TV, but she lacked their softness. The backs of her legs were defined and muscular unlike those of the sisters at the convent. Her middle lacked the roundness of the moms he saw around town, and even her arms were strong and brawny. She was surrounded by a halo of blonde hair and looked as glamourous as a movie star, as well as more powerful than any other girl he had seen before, yet she seemed familiar to him.

He found himself growing uncharacteristically shy under her gaze and fiddled with the comic book in his hand to take off the pressure of her scrutiny. In the panels on the page, Wonder Woman, Princess of Amazons, fought the other warrior women on Paradise Island for the chance to accompany Steve Trevor to Man's Land. He cast a downward smile at the pages of the comic book, struck with understanding of why the woman before him looked so familiar.

True, she was not like the other moms, she wasn't even like the people he saw on TV. She was better. A real life Amazon, Superhero just like the ones from his comics and sent directly to save him. He looked back at her with confidence and awe.

"Emma Swan, my name's Henry. I am your son."

* * *

 **A Little bit of historic fiction, I guess. I've always wanted to write** **an AU set in the 60s so I might continue this one day. But for now,** **it's a cute little drabble about badass women in fiction. And what Once ff writer worth their salt, hasn't put their spin on that first door scene between Emma and Henry?**


	7. When The Dark One Takes You

**Prompt: Love these so much. Would love a prompt set after the return from Camelot where Dark One Emma kidnaps Henry to protect him.**

He looked so peaceful, the fringe of his hair falling gently over his closed eyes. His mouth was slightly a jar and moved gently like that of a sleeping toddler. Emma's heart swelled at the sight. In her mind danced images of him in his earliest of years being lulled to sleep in her arms, his face blessed with that safe peaceful look he wore at this moment.

The images were fake of course, the fabrication of some spell or other. Emma had never gotten to hold Henry when he was a baby. She'd never felt the weight of his infant form in her arms, or moved the cap of his head to her nose after bath time, taking in that new baby smell. Instead she had felt the tightening of cuffs around her wrists and the scratchy fabric of the all too think prison suits.

She pushed the memory, the dismal truth of her life, out of her mind and looked back over to her son. The kid was safe and happy in her house, under her protection and removed from anything ( _or anyone_ ) that could hurt him. She pulled the blanket over his gently moving chest , as if it was another barrier between him and the rest of the cruel world, and watched him sleep from the distance of the door way.

"Yes," Emma thought to herself. "This was the right decision. Having Henry here alleviates my fears and ensures his safety. The others won't understand but once I explain it to him, he'll agree that it's best he stays here with me, at least for a little while."

"And if he doesn't see things your way, it's not like he has much say in that matter anyway. Right, dearie?"

A cruel, jiving voice called out from behind her, earning an eye roll from the fallen savior.

"Go away. I don't need your advice on how to raise my son." Emma turned to face the voice, but saw no one. Startled, she looked back into the room she had set up for her son and noticed a dark cloud taking on the form of another.

"Nimue." Emma stated, as she took in the figure standing over her son. "I didn't know you could change forms."

The scaly woman smiled back, her mouth stained black and yellow from the inside out as if the darkness was bile that had grown from the heart and burst out of her mouth when she was no longer able to contain it.

"There is still a lot you don't know." The first Dark One said, hers taking in the bedroom, shifting over the comics and clocks, until they fell on the place where Henry slept.

Emma straightened her posture and moved her hands forward, ready to defend her son.

"I am not judging you, Emma, it's like I told you back in Camelot. We are one in the same, all Dark One's are. If Henry is your son, then he is ours too and when something belongs to you, you can't let anyone take it away from you." Nimue's hand wavered over the top of Henry's head, pushing aside the stray lock of hair. Henry's sleeping face crumpled at the cold, forbidding women's touch.

Emma ran towards Nimue, ready to pull her off of the boy and plunge her fist into the figures heart. She let out a scream, similar to those that warriors make before a strike, but by the time she had reached the spot where the demon stood, Nimue had vanished leaving behind a cloud of black smoke and a waking 13 year old.

"Mom!? Where am I? What's going on."

Emma turned to the child, brushing off the fear Nimue had brought on, and leant down to his level.

"I was hoping you'd sleep longer." She mumbled "Henry, this is our new home. I've set things up for you already but we can change it, if you don't like it. I know the loft was cramped, but here you get to have your own room."

"You..brought a house?"

"With your help, of course. In Camelot you and Killian picked it out, so we could have our happy ending together, in our home."

Henry frowned and sensing his confusion, Emma moved to place a comforting hand on his arm, as she had done numerous times in the loft. The feeling of her son flinching away from her touch, stabbed into her heart worse than dagger.

"Henry, you don't have to be afraid of me. I am still your mom."

"Then why did you take all of our memories? And, we didn't you just ask me come here, instead of stealing me away in the middle of the night. I would have came, you know? It's not like I haven't been missing you too."

"You-you missed me?" Emma, asked quietly. Looking at Henry with trepidation as if she were afraid he would turn on her at any moment.

Henry sighed, a faint blush rising up his cheeks.

"Of course I did. This is the longest I've gone without speaking to you since we met and not seeing you every day sucks."

A smile tug at the corners of Emma's lips. She was so proud of her son. He was the brightest light in the dark hall that was had been her life that she could imagine.

"It's sucked for me too, kid." The husky, voice of the Dark One seemed to melt away for that moment, and once again she sounded like the Emma Swan Henry had found all those years ago.

"Henry, things got bad in Camelot. I did some things I really regret."

"It's okay, mom. Whatever you did I am sure we can fix it." Henry places his hand on the black leather of Emma's Dark One coat, ignoring the cold touch of her skin on his palm.

"I hurt you, Henry. I hurt some other people too. I am going to make it better, but what I have planned is dangerous. I took you here so you wouldn't get hurt again."

"Mom, you know how this goes, we both do. I can't stay here right now, and I don't want you to try to make me. Regina did that and it took me a really long time to trust her after that."

Emma frowned, the knowledge of what she had done to Violet and Henry weighed heavily on her mind. Would Henry ever be able to trust her again once he knew the truth? If that trust was already broken, what harm could keeping Henry here do? So many questions fought for attention in her mind, but eventually the truth was too hard to ignore. As much as she wanted to, as much as the Darkness inside her called out for her to use her magic to lock him in his bedroom, to rely on time to act as the balm to sooth any resentment who would gain for her from taking over his free will, she knew she had to let him go.

She hugged him tight to her once again, enjoying the weight of him against her torso, and promised herself that this time it was only temporary.

She ignored the mean spirited jittering of the Rumpelstiltskin figure the darkness had conjured to taunt her with words of her never seeing her child again, of him dying without her protection, and instead enjoyed the softness of his hair against her forehead as he slowly faded away, back to the loft from which he had been taken.

 _Thank-you for the prompts. They've all been really creative and challenging so far. I hope this one turned out to your liking, Guest._


End file.
